The Meaning of Red
by Ormandria
Summary: Red, the color of the heart. The color of blood. The color of betrayal. And betrayal is exactly what he had in mind.... Sequel to Five Minutes Late. One chapterOne shot. Not slash. Please RR.


_**Disclaimer and A/N:** I do NOT own Harry Potter or any of the characters there-in. That honor goes to JK Rowling._

_This is a sequel to Five Minutes Late. It also is a one-shot, the second of three thatwill all be linked together and revolve around Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew and whattranspired after Lily and James were killed. It is not A/U and it isnot slash. Please R/R. Thanks!_

_**Ormandria**_

* * *

All colors throughout the known world mean something. They stand in some emotional or metaphorical aspect of an individuals mind. Occasionally though, that meaning transcends the mind of one person and brings a universal meaning to all that know that color. 

For instance, Purple becomes the color of royalty; blue, the color of sadness and red is the color of blood. Blood that runs deep within all human heart, be it wizard or muggle. It is all the same. And run, the blood does. It seeps past the veins, over the wound in the torn flesh of the one that cowers in a corner in the filthy muggle street, begging for mercy. It drips down onto the concrete below, pooling into a puddle so deep that the liquid of life almost turns pitch black.

This is where it will end for one. They both know that, the hunter as well as the hunted. For one must perish this night, and in so doing, free the other.

Peter Pettigrew drew ever further back from the raging maniac before him.

"Now, now, Sirius," he tried to quall the young man's anger. "You don't know what you're doing."

"Why?" Sirius glowered, ignoring his former friend's plea for mercy. "You betrayed them. They were your friends. They loved you!" Tears streamed down Black's face, his body continued to shudder under heavy sobs.

"What are talking about?" Pettigrew asked nervously (trying to feign an innocence that he knew no longer existed) as he looked around. A crowd had begun to gather, to watch the two grown men. To their eyes, there was no doubt that there would be more fighting. The pudgy, short, rodent looking one was already injured. A long gash, one could only guess that it was made by the small, sharp stick that the assailant was wielding, ran from his upper right shoulder down to his mid-chest.

"James and Lily, Peter. _James and Lily!_" Sirius shouted, the expression on his face hidden by his long, black hair. Though Pettigrew was positive it was not a good expression.

"They're dead you rot," Sirius continued. "And soon, you will be too."

It also didn't take a genius to figure out who was winning the fight. Pettigrew brought his sleeve across his own forehead to wipe the sweat away. In all his years, he had never seen Sirius more … well, serious. If he didn't find a way out soon, then this clout was actually going to kill him!

Pettigrew smiled at the thought as he glanced around at the growing crowd of muggles, though Sirius was so busy trying to control himself that he didn't notice. To these people Sirius looked like the attacker and Peter the victim. They had no idea what had transpired prior to this moment. They would never know that Peter Pettigrew had betrayed two of the people that had professed to love him so much. They had no idea that he had been responsible for the deaths of two of the wizarding world's most beloved people.

So far, it would appear that the same could also be said about the wizarding world as well. After all, Sirius was the only one left alive that knew James had switched secret-keepers on Sirius' advice.

A plan began to form inside of Peter's skull, even as he continued to plead with Sirius for his very life.

"You're insane!" he squealed in a high-pitched voice. "You're mad! I didn't do anything wrong. I swear."

"_Don't lie to me!"_ Sirius stopped in mid-step. His body shook with untold rage. He closed his eyes in a vein effort to control himself. "You … I … You think I'm mad? I am going to make sure you pay for what you did!"

It was only a brief moment, but it was all the moment Pettigrew needed. As Sirius stood their, his eyes closed, Peter Pettigrew reached his hand into his robes, snatching his own wand. With it in hand, he made a mad slash at his own hand, cutting off one of his own fingers in the process.

Sirius looked up in stunned amazement at the sudden movement. He was the only one to notice the small appendage falling to the ground. Before he could react, however, or make sense out of what was happening, Peter grinned wickedly, his lips curled in a snare, and cried out one last plea for all to hear.

_"Please Sirius Black! Please don't kill me!"_ He then muttered his incantation under his breath and the alleyway in which Sirius had blocked him irrupted into a giant fireball.

Sirius barely had time to put up a protective charm as Peter morphed himself into the form of a mouse. Under the cover of the smoke and fire, surrounding by the screams of cries of a dozen dying muggles, Pettigrew dove for the nearest point of safety, a sewer grate a few feet from where he had been standing just moments ago.

Once inside the sewer Peter breathed a heavy sigh of relief and almost immediately regretted it. The stench coming from the place was abominable. He gazed around momentarily and saw a sight that nearly made him sick to his stomach. Dirty water flowed through the tunnels filled with trash, feces and only who knows what else.

Muggles had no sense of pride if they let this kind of sick atrocity carry on right under their feet. He peered out and debated leaving the sewer to go find a more agreeable hiding place but quickly thought better of it. The smoke and fire had cleared and Sirius was looking for some sign of Pettigrew among the charred corpses of muggles as though he might rip the body to shreds if he found it.

As if that was not enough incentive for Peter to remain in hiding, he quickly heard the wailing sirens of the muggle law enforcers as they arrived. He could just hear some of the surviving muggle witnesses claim that the man now tossing bodies around had set of some sort of device called a bomb. Soon the ministry would be here and if Pettigrew were found it would be very bad indeed. With no other options left, Peter Pettigrew resigned himself to the stink of the sewers and took off deeper into them.

Every few hours he would head up and peek out of a grate in the vein hope that he would see something he recognized that might bring him to a place of safety other than the sewer he now traveled through. After quite a few such stops, long past the setting of the sun, he finally found such a sign. It hung outside the door of a building that sat half a block down, across the street. It was the sign for The Leaky Cauldron.

Smiling to himself, he made a break for it. Luckily there were not many muggle cars driving around at this time of night, so the trip was a relatively safe one. Once there he merely had to wait until someone left so that he could squeeze by without much effort. Once inside it would be simple enough for him to make his way, unseen, to the back of the pub and then into Diagon Alley.

It wasn't a long wait. A young wizard couple stumbled out, laughing loudly and shooting sparks in the air with their wands. As Peter hurried in, he saw that the pub was filled almost to the brim similarly drunk and celebrating wizard's and witches. He was reminded bitterly of the news he had heard earlier, shortly before Sirius had found him, that the Dark Lord had been destroyed in his attempt to kill the Potter's young child.

Ignoring the drunken reveries, as well as the stomping feet that almost caught him on numerous occasions, he headed for the Diagon Alley entrance in the back. Pettigrew again did not have to wait long before some bumbling wizard opened the brick wall for him. Scurrying through after the drunkard, Pettigrew ran down the streets of Diagon Alley until he finally reach a small safe cubby hole in the wall beside one the shops. Exhausted both physically and mentally from all that had transpired that day, he settled down in a small ball and let sleep have its way with him.

He awoke to the sun shining down brightly and the muttering, complaining and excited cries of several wizards, witches and their off-spring. He poked his head out, his beady, little eyes searching for something familiar. What caught his eye, however, was not familiar, but was indeed usable. A rather large brood of red-haired wizards was making its way past.

"Now, now, will you all hush!" cried a rather large, plump witch. In her arms was a small toddler, who was currently asleep on her shoulder. The only female in the bunch, she had the same red-hair as the others, and was currently busy snapping at them.

"Charlie! Stop picking on your brother!"

"But mum," the one called Charlie complained. "He started it!"

"Did not!" huffed a boy that was no more than six by the looks of him.

"Did too!"

"Enough already! Or we'll head straight back home. Fred! George! Don't even think about it!"

Two even younger boys, twins by the look of them, had picked up some dung beetles from the street and started to put them in their slightly older brother's pants. With one glare from their mother though, they stop. She held out one hand for the beetles and once turned over, handed them forcibly to her husband, who held onto an even younger baby then his wife did.

"Oh come now Molly. They're just being boys," he smirked.

"I don't care if they're being Ministry representatives. I'll not have them acting up in public. This is our first outing since You-know-who was defeated and I intend to enjoy it. Besides, I don't like they're always picking on Percy. It isn't right." She looked back at the lone boy that had been getting picked on by both his older and younger brothers.

Peter's heart went out to the boy. He looked so sad and alone. Peter knew that feeling well. Oh James, Sirius and Remus had always pretended that they cared about him, but he knew the truth. They only put up with him. In their eyes, Peter Pettigrew had never been anything more then a simpering wimp that they kept around for a good laugh.

When they hadn't been busy picking on Severus, they picked on Peter. Everyone did. True if anyone outside the maurader's picked on him, then the other three would stand up to defend and protect him. But who protected Peter from their jibs and jabs? Even Remus, who rarely actively picked on Pettigrew, would through out the occasional insult or worse, laugh when James and Sirius did it.

No, none of them had truly been his friend. Therefore it hadn't taken much effort to be convinced to betray them. In fact, rather then feel guilty about the whole thing, it had imbued him with a temporary sense of power and meaning in his life.

Now though, watching this young wizard, he suddenly felt a sense of empathy. He knew what it was like to be in that place and it hurt to see it happening to someone else. Peter slowly came out of his cubby hole and followed the group as they walked on. He sidled up to the boy they had called Percy. His held his head down and Peter could tell that he was crying, though he was desperately trying to hide it. It was to no avail though as the twins began to mock him for it.

Percy started to flail a fist in their direction, when the oldest boy of all descended on him in a loud whisper.

"Percy! Stop it. You heard mum. Do you want to have to go home?"

"But Bill..." he pleaded.

"No buts! And you two, you stop it as well."

"Yes, Mr. Bill Sir!" the twins saluted in unison before smiling and running off to catch up with the others, who hadn't stopped.

Bill sigh and looked at Percy who stood in the middle of the road pouting.

"You better stop sulking Perce. It's the only way they'll stop picking on you. The more you let it get to you the more they'll do it." Bill spoke with the wisdom of someone seemingly much older than what he appeared to be, which was a mere eleven. "Now hurry up, or we'll leave you behind." With that, Bill turned and ran for his parents, talking about all the stuff he would need to start Hogwarts this year.

Percy, however, remained were he was, wiping the tears from his eyes. Peter crept up to the boy until he was at his feet. Gently, Peter put his injured paw on the boy's shoe.

Percy looked down confused for a moment. "Who are you?" he asked and then shook his head. "Never mind. Rats can't answer can they? But still…" He reached down and picked Peter up. "You're hurt aren't you? Do you have any friends? I don't. Everyone picks on me."

Peter snuggled into Percy's hands and the boy smiled at him in return.

"Maybe we can be friends," he said.

"Percy Weasley! What are you doing still standing here?" The boy's mother had rushed up to him.

"Mum, look. He's been injured." Percy held Pettigrew up for inspection. Molly winced at first, but then seeing the look on her child's face she softened and lifted the rat up.

"Well so he has," she remarked concernedly. "We'll get him over to the Magical Menagerie and see if someone there can take a look at him."

"Can I keep him mum?" Percy asked.

Molly Weasley looked a little skeptical. "I don't know…."

"Please? I'll be good and I'll feed him and take care of him! He doesn't have any friends and … neither do I."

"All right dear," she sighed but smiled. "If they can fix him up, you can keep him."

"Thank you mom!" he cried.

The Weasleys took Peter to have him looked at and tended to, and true to her word, Molly allowed Percy to take him home with them. Once there, he fixed him a nice dish of water and gave him so scraps from dinner.

"So what are you going to name him?" the father asked.

Percy thought a moment. "I think I'll call him Scabbers, cause he's all covered in scabs now."

"Sounds like a good name to me," his father returned.

Peter ate his food and drank his fill of water as he gazed at a copy of The Daily Prophet that had been left on the table. On the front cover was a picture of what looked like one severely deranged Sirius Black and a headline that read "Sirius Black captured after killing Peter Pettigrew." Further down, the article explained how it was believed that Sirius had betrayed Lily and James Potter, handing them over to He-who-must-not-be-named, before going on to kill their dear friend Peter Pettigrew and a dozen muggles who had gotten in the way.

Peter Pettigrew knew well the meanings behind the color red. They were held in the blood that had flown when he betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord, when Sirius had cut across his chest and again when he cut off his own finger. However now they went even further. Now it meant protection and care in the hands of a naïve young wizard and his equally unaware family.

Pettigrew smiled to himself. Yes, he had done a rather good job of covering his tracks and with Sirius in Azkaban, his revenge, as well as his freedom, were now well secured.

Yes, here in a house where the color red dominated above all, Peter Pettigrew had finally found sanctuary….


End file.
